When eleven-year-old TJ finds a
weird looking egg in the Florida Everglades after a tropical storm rips
through, naturally he takes it home for identification. It could be the egg of
a mutant duck or something, which would be awesome.

Problem is, the egg doesn’t look
like it came from a mallard, even a mutated one—it’s too big and heavy
and…strange. So he hides it away in his closet and continues on with his life
as usual, doing his best to ignore the creepy men constantly banging at his
front door and the significant rise in military helicopter sightings in his
typically quiet neighbourhood. Then one day he comes home from school and it’s
as though a cyclone has gone through his bedroom.

Suddenly, TJ knows he’s dealing
with something a little more interesting—and a little more deadly—than a duck.

TJ and Sam stood silent and
still, too afraid to move or make a sound. “Wait a second,” TJ finally said.
“Mess downstairs? We weren’t downstairs.”

Their
eyes met and they shared the same thought. They darted into TJ’s room, emerging
a moment later, sufficiently rearmed with the slingshot and bat. Then, they
snuck downstairs to assess the damage.

When
TJ saw the extent of the wreckage, he almost let another marble rip. His heart
sank when he spotted the demolished cherry pie.

“Hell-o
Kitty,” Sam uttered, marveling at the mess. “I think your house is haunted, TJ.
You have one of those polter-geese.”

“Geist,”
TJ corrected. “Poltergeist. Do you think a ghost hatched out of that egg?”

“I
don’t know what it was that came out of that thing, but I know it’s a huge pain
in my butt. Since you found it, I’ve almost been eaten by an alligator, shot by
a swamp cowboy, and now I’m stuck cleaning up its mess.”

Sam
and TJ grumbled at each other, and ghosts, and the whole world as they scrubbed
the floors, wiped the counters, and picked up bits of broken plate and other
unidentifiable things. Once the kitchen sparkled, Sam threw her dirty rag at
TJ.

“Not
that this wasn’t a fun night or anything, but I’m going home before the ground
splits open and we get attacked by mole people.”

Fatigue hit TJ hard. He yawned
and didn’t stop yawning until he reached his bedroom door. His mind raced in
circles. He couldn’t focus on any one thing long enough to even care about
poltergeists or alligators or whatever. All he wanted to do was go to sleep
with the hope that he’d wake up in the morning with all of his limbs still
attached.

Luckily,
TJ’s reflexes were working just fine despite his mostly asleep brain. He opened
the door and ducked just in time to avoid getting hit square in the face with a
flying sneaker. He dropped to the floor and covered his head with his arms. He
peeked up when he was sure the other sneaker wasn’t going to follow. He
instantly wished he had his helmet—and the swamp cowboy—because standing on his
bed was the thing that had destroyed his room and the kitchen…

A one-foot tall Tyrannosaurus
Rex.

About
the Authors:

Cody
B. Stewart
was born in the Adirondacks, in Upstate New York. His love of stories began in
those mountains as he vanquished trolls, fought in the American Revolution and
discovered his latent mutant powers. Stories have continued to consume his
life, but he now plucks them out of his head and puts them down on paper in the
form of novels and comic books. He left the Adirondacks to grow into a man, did
so, and has since returned with a wonderfully supportive wife and two sons.

Mark
Rogers’
career as a travel journalist has brought him to 56 countries and counting.
These trips have fed his imagination while at the same time provided authentic
experiences and sensory detail that find their way into his novels and
screenplays. Mark’s won multiple awards for his travel writing, including an
award for his Hurricane Ivan coverage in Jamaica. His work regularly appears in
USA Todayand other media outlets. Mark lives in Baja California with his
Sinaloa-born wife, Sophy, where they recently built a rock house overlooking
the sea.

Adam
Rocke never
met an adventure he didn’t love. From swimming with great white sharks without
a cage, to jumping out of a plane without a parachute, Adam’s adrenaline junkie
tendencies play a major role in his writing.Throw in a secondary degree in
CryptoZoology, and it’s anyone’s guess where Adam’s literary travels will take
him.

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